


For the Sake of a Boy

by monaboyd_archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-16
Updated: 2004-01-16
Packaged: 2018-04-11 18:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4446584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monaboyd_archivist/pseuds/monaboyd_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dom/Billy - Dom gets a penchant for Elijah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Sake of a Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the Monaboyd.net Archive, which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years . To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile.

  
**Title:** For the Sake of a Boy  
**Author(s):** Ineke  
**Pairing:** Dominic/Billy  
**Rating:** R ( to be safe, ha), sexual references, frequent course language.  
**Summary:** Dom/Billy - Dom gets a penchant for Elijah.  
**Disclaimer:** Ugh. I don’t have any money, so don’t fucking sue me… unless you want a lot of Justin Timberlake posters in payment. I own nothing. The following is purely fictional matter. Actual timeframes, conversations and events are fabricated for our own convenience. I don’t know Billy Boyd, Dominic Monaghan, Elijah Wood - or Franka Potenté - nor are they my property, and I’m not assuming anything about their private and sexual lives. Same goes for the entire cast of The Lord of The Rings. I’m simply borrowing their bodies.  
**Comments:** Billy’s accent is typed phonetically - similar to the text in the novel Trainspotting, just a little more mellow. Once you get used to it, it’s way easier to visualise him speaking. Lyrics are property of De La Soul and The Spice Girls. Should be read whilst listening to “Clap Your Hands” by A Tribe Called Quest for full bad boy effect.

_______________________________________________________________

Section One  
_______________________________________________________________

“Hold back up the track, grab your roller skates y'all, and let's zip on by, Zip-a-de-doo-dah, let's zip on by, feed on a weed and we're feeling high, sun is on thick and the cheese is rollin' quick - Come on, there's no time to hide, season is twist, spinning and winning, no hackey sack, let-let me in, spill on the bottom away, but it's okay, huh -It's a Saturday.”  
Elijah is rapping. It’s shameful, it’s embarrassing, it’s horrifying. Dominic is enthralled. The boy is beyond gorgeous. Elijah carries on for a while, doing appropriate hand movements and the like, and when he finally finishes his eyes sparkle wildly and his gappy smile beams.  
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Billy says under his breath. “I cannae take much more of this shite.”  
Elijah laughs, that endearing child-star vibe positively radiating off his vocal chords. “Get out then!”  
Billy gives a faint smile and stands up. “We’re out of Budweiser anyway. I’ll be back in a few. Ye want tae come, Dom’nic?”  
Dom shakes his head. “I’ve got a bloody good challenge in mind.” Billy rolls his eyes when he sees the glazed-over look that Dom has pasted all over him. It’s useless to yell. “Fuckin’ - ugh. Just be good.”  
There’s a brief silence when Billy shuts the door, and Elijah waits until he hears the car pull out before he says anything. “I so rap like a bad ass,” he says defiantly, pulling a serious face - all the while baiting Dom. Dom shrugs it off.  
“Bet I can out do you,” he says, playfully smirking.  
“Be my guest,” Elijah prompts, sitting back with his arms folded and his face smeared with a sceptical look beyond his years. Dom takes a deep breath, and without thinking - begins to spiel off the first bad r’nb song that comes to mind.  
“Listen up - I got to tell ya, about the ins and outs and goings on,  
I wouldn't tell just anybody about the fox I'm chasing…”  
Elijah shrieks with laughter, and clutches at his stomach, barely able to spit out his words. “I can’t believe I know this,” he cries. “You’re rapping against the artistry that is De La Soul - by singing a Spice Girls song?” Dom doesn’t stop. He chants louder now, and seemsto stare right into Elijah.  
“He's resistant and persistent, it didn't stop me from homing in, 'Cause I'm choosy not a floozy, I get my hit and then I run with it…”  
When his giggling fits have calmed, Elijah starts to feel a little uncomfortable.  
“Last time loverrrr, do you think I'm really cool and sexy, and I know you want to get with me…”  
Dom rolls his ‘R’s and stares at Elijah, never blinking. This has gone beyond a fuck-around session between mates. Dom is singing to HIM, Elijah realises as he sits forward, and suddenly he doesn’t know what to say or do. He grips his hands in his lap and tries to remain calm.  
“Last time lover…” Dom now whispers hoarsely, as he sidles towards Lij. Elijah doesn’t move. He is paralysed with fear while Dominic gets closer.  
“Do you want to be my last time, baby?” Dominic is now sitting right next to Elijah, still staring intently. Elijah diverts his eyes, and starts staring at Franka Potente’s discarded Vogue on his coffee table. “Could it be your first time, maybe?” Dom says so softly that it almost sounds like a purr. His words are now no more than panting breaths brushing against Elijah’s cheekbones. Elijah shudders involuntarily, and then springs off the sofa in one slick move.  
“Whoa,” he says, struggling to find words. “Just…whoa there. I mean, like, were you-”  
Dom looks up at the younger man, the feeling of rejection coating him like motor oil. Like everything else, Dom shrugs it off.  
“I was fucking with you, Lij,” Dom finishes for him, giving a cheesy smile. “Duh.”  
Elijah smiles, his crooked grin stretching unsurely across his face. “Yeah, of course,” he says, giving Dom a punch on the arm. “I know.”  
You really don’t, Dom thinks to himself.

 

_______________________________________________________________

Section Two  
_______________________________________________________________

At Peter Jackson’s request, the Fellowship and Co. gather for Saturday night dinner at his LA apartment. That isn’t unusual. What is unusual is that whilst The Lord Of The Rings is a predominantly male cast, there seems to be an overabundance of women at this particular Saturday night dinner. Dominic finds himself on the sofa stranded between Phillippa Boyens and Cate Blanchett, whilst Elijah is sitting at the dining table with Liv Tyler and Miranda Otto. Orlando is leaning against the doorframe, blotto as all hell, picking Ian McKellen’s brain. The look of amusement in Ian’s eyes makes Dom feel a little less tense about the whole evening. People are relaxed, he’s among good friends.  
One of whom you tried to molest, his conscience sings in.  
‘Quiet you,’ he thinks, and tries to concentrate on something else. Miranda is talking with David Wenham about hosting a get-together in Australia. Elijah is enraptured, asking her 10,000 questions all at once - mostly about local bands. Dominic sighs and his posture slumps. The women are laughing and drinking, and all the men seem preoccupied.  
“Well. Dominic Monaghan, that doesn’t look like you at all.”  
Dom looks up to see Billy standing above him, his green eyes glimmering. Dom doesn’t want to see him. The guilt from the episode with Elijah hurts. He gives a small acknowledging nod, and takes a deep swig of whisky. The burn of the drink leaves him with a head spin.  
“How’s things?” Billy asks, now squatting down near Dominic’s feet. ‘Christ, he’s making himself comfortable,’ Dom thinks, and takes another sip. “Cruising, Pip. Cruising.”  
Billy flinches at the use of his pet name. It’s Dom’s shield, his barricade from letting anyone in. He sweet talks you, offers you the world, gets piss drunk and sings karaoke - but never admits how he really feels. There was a time when Billy Boyd was the only one with the key to Dominic. He knew him inside and out. Mentally and physically, there wasn’t anything that the two men hadn’t shared. Things have now changed - but Dom hasn’t. Billy still knows how to break the ice.  
“Want tae come home wi’ me? Ah’m bored,” Billy whispers softly.  
“Maybe Peter has a PlayStation,” Dom says, smirking.  
“Nah. Ah just wan’tae go home and watch stupid Britcoms. It’s no’ funny without ye. Well - okay. It is, but ye always laugh at the wigs on Black Adder. Yer impersonation of Baldrick makes me hysterical. C’mon. Ah need some Dom stupidity,” Billy pleaded.  
“Yeah I must admit, I’m good. ‘Stellaaa!’” he suddenly cries out. “So. Who was that then?”  
“I’unno. Shirley Temple?”  
“Dickhead. Marlon Brando. Streetcar Named Desire.”  
“Aye. I knew. I joost wanted tae see if you’d take credit for whatever actor I named.”  
Dom laughs, and the gates are open. Billy smiles back.  
“Come on then.”  
Dominic stands quickly at first, taking Billy’s lead. He gives a quick glance around the room to make sure he has everything. Wallet, keys, phone. He takes one look at Elijah, and suddenly feels compelled to say what he was doing, where he was going - and when he’d be back. Billy frowns. He can see Dom stalling.  
“Come on, Dom,” Billy says, clasping Dominic’s free hand in his own and squeezing it tightly. “Pete knows how we always take off. It takes 3 bloody hours tae say g’night to every bastard in ‘ere. Let’s joost go.”

Dom gives Elijah a look reminiscent of Bambi, and slowly walks out the door.

_______________________________________________________________

Section Three  
_______________________________________________________________

“There’s nothing good on. It’s all commercials,” Dominic calls out to Billy. He‘s perched lazily with his sneakers resting on Billy’s crisp white Ikea sofa, knowing it annoys the Scot when anything new got slightly dirty. He presses the channel button on the remote almost compulsively, getting agitated further and further by advertisements for Brill Cream.  
“Ah hate American television,” Billy eventually shouts back. “What aboot The Comedy Channel?”  
“Some charity bullshit. I hate when the world gets caring when I want to laugh. Last week, I’m out saving trees and every cunt wants to talk about Lord of the fucking Rings! I’m like, hello? I’m saving a forest and nobody cares. Well, fuck the Salvation Army in its arse.”  
“That’s the spirit, m’boy,” Billy says proudly, as he walks in. He has a bag of Doritos under one arm, and a platter with two bowls of pasta balanced carefully on the hand of the other. He lets the food fall to the coffee table with a clatter.  
“Sustenance,” Dom declares fondly, ripping into the Doritos.  
“Get your feet off m’couch!” Billy shouts, but there is humour in his voice. Dom complies slowly, like a child pushing how far they could go.  
Billy sits down, dusting the seat quickly and briefly. Dom smiles a cheeky smile, and Billy gives him a wink.  
This was how it always had been - until Dom had moved to Los Angeles. The constant buggering about, what with Dom being the practical joker and Billy naturally being a comedian, they were told constantly that they fitted like a glove. Two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Billy remembers thinking the same thing many mornings, when he’d gaze across the silk sheets in his London apartment and see Dom’s body there - close, warm, the slow outline of his form rising and falling with his gentle breathing. He was the only one who saw Dom like that, raw, exposed, not playing up to anything. Billy now knows that Dom wants Elijah to be part of that. To see him like only a lover could. Billy wishes it wasn’t that way.  
He sinks back into the sofa, and puts his feet up. His grubby Camper sneakers smear a trail of Los Angeles dirt across the canvas covers. He suddenly laughs loudly, and so does Dom. The two of them plonk their legs on the couch, their sneakers pressing together, making a nest.  
“There goes 8,000 quid,” Dom laughs, examining the stains. Billy smiles and stares at the TV.  
“Ah miss this.”  
Dom turns and smiles back at Billy, taking his hand.  
“Me too, Pip.” He sinks slowly and comfortably into the sofa, feeling as relaxed as he had ever been.  
“The phone’s ringing,” he says after a few moments of silence.  
“Let the machine get it.”  
Click. “Hey Billy-boy, it’s Lij. I’m just wondering - purely because I’m a little weirded out - are you invited to Dom’s party on Tuesday? Because I’ve asked around, and nobody else is going. Viggo wasn’t invited, or Orli. Just wondering who else is gonna be there. Thanks.”  
There is silence.  
“Party?” Billy asks, after a while. Dom shrugs.  
“Not a party as such…just a small gathering of people.”  
Billy stands up quickly and forcefully, pushing Dom’s legs out of his lap.  
“Ah’m curious Dominic, ah really am. Have ye ever given one moment’s consideration tae how this fooking looks tae me? How ah feel?”  
“Bills, c’mon. This isn’t such a big deal. You’re overreact-”  
The sound of footsteps and the bedroom door slamming signals the end of the conversation.

_______________________________________________________________

Section Four  
_______________________________________________________________

“How did I get here?” Dom thinks. He shifts about a bit, entangled in white sheets. Everything in this fucking house is white, he thinks. It hurts to think.  
“Am I drunk?” he grunts loudly.  
“Mffmll,” says a voice into its pillow. It belongs to Billy. He rolls over and stares at Dominic, half dead, half asleep. His green eyes are clouded and his hair spikes into ridiculous Wolverine patterns.  
“Why ye ‘ere?” Billy asks, through mouthfuls of his pillow.  
“I can’t remember,” Dom says, slowly opening his eyes and taking in the sunlight. He breathes out, and the smell of vodka resonates around the room. “Oh yeah. Those few hundred Stolis might have something to do with it.”  
“Mmm,” says Billy, and turns over.  
“Are you sleeping?”  
There is no reply.  
“Billy?”  
There’s a grunt, and Billy sits up slowly. “Fuck. Ah’m awake. What?”  
“I feel like shit.”  
Billy sighs. “There’s some painkillers in the top cupboard. And get us some tea while yer up.”  
There’s a scuttling noise, and Dom pulls on his discarded jeans. Billy shuts his eyes and falls back to sleep, neck twisted against the headboard. He wakes up to the scuttling sound again, and can vaguely see Dom walking towards him - bare-chested, his blonde hair sticking up like Tintin, and his jeans sitting just below his hipbones, the bottom edges fraying underneath his heels and almost polishing the hardwood floor. He passes a cup as big as a soup bowl to Billy.  
“Cheers.”  
There is a moment’s hesitation before Dom sits on the edge of the mattress. Billy reaches forward and pulls him backward by the Calvin Klein tab on his jeans.  
“So.”  
“Listen, Bills…You were-”  
“Don’t spoil this,” Billy says softly, putting an arm around Dom’s waist as he takes a sip of his tea. “Joost sit wi’ me.”  
“I should probably go.”  
Billy pulls back like a wounded animal and sighs. “Fuck’s sake, Dominic. Go then.”  
Dom doesn’t face Billy. He slides to the edge of the mattress and takes his time putting on his rings, his necklace and his bracelets. He slides his feet into a pair of Billy’s Birkenstocks - an automatic morning-after reaction. He realises as he reaches the bedroom door, and looks down at his feet.  
“Fuck. These aren’t mine. I’ll just find my-”  
“Take them,” Billy says, absently staring out the window. “Just get the fook out.”  
“Bill,” Dom pleads. “I’ve…I’ve just got to go. I’d stay if I-” He pauses as he kicks off the Birkenstocks and looks around on the floor for his shirt. He waits for Billy to offer one.  
There’s silence.  
“Can I have a shirt then?” he asks, slightly annoyed.  
“Take one. Get out.”  
“Jesus Christ.” Dominic sighs loudly and pulls Billy’s drawers open violently. He sorts through piles of plaid shirts until finally he finds a Smashing Pumpkins t-shirt. It’s old, worn, and smells of Elijah. Must have been his. Dom pulls it on and ruffles his hair. He suddenly becomes aware that Billy is watching him.  
“What?” he snaps, turning to face the Scot.  
“Just found it funny that ye chose that shirt,” he snorts.  
Dom doesn’t say anything, even though Billy can tell he wants to. He wants to punch him in the fucking face. Instead, he crosses to Billy’s side of the bed, grabs him by the shoulders and forces him into a kiss. But this isn’t a good kiss and Billy doesn’t surrender to it, and yet he doesn’t fight it. He hangs there limp between the bed and Dom’s body, arms held down, lips pressed against stubble.  
“Stop,” he says against Dom’s lips, and it comes out as nothing more than muffled sound. Dom presses harder, opening his mouth, letting his tongue slide forward. “Stop, Dom,” Billy whispers, and soon he feels himself giving in, remembering Dom’s touch, his mouth, what this feels like.  
“That,” says Dom, pulling back suddenly, “Is what you should remember every time you doubt my intentions.”  
He walks barefoot to the doorway, slides Billy’s Birkenstocks back on and takes a moment to light a cigarette. He does all this without looking at Billy once - and then he walks out the door.  
_______________________________________________________________

Section Five  
_______________________________________________________________

 

 _‘I love the colour of your walls,’ Dom had said. ‘They look like passion.’ Billy had smiled. The deep red walls had always made him feel like he was in hell - dying. It was funny how Dom made things seem totally different._  
‘They’re **our** walls. I’ll always keep them like this,’ Billy had said. ‘For you.’

It’s getting dark when Billy wakes up again.  
He sits up, feeling horribly hung over without having drunk anything at all. His mouth tastes like an ashtray, and he remembers Dominic’s kiss. Dominic always tasted like smoke.  
He stumbles towards his dresser and searches in vain for his Smashing Pumpkins t-shirt. The one day he wants to wear it, it’s gone. Or maybe he just wants it because Dominic has it. He thinks to himself that maybe the Elijah situation is the same, that he’ll want Dominic when he can’t have him anymore.  
“Too much shite fer this hour of the morning,” he mumbles, and staggers to the kitchen. He searches around for his agent’s number - he should probably give her a buzz. When he can’t find it - or his phone, he quickly gives up and decides to heat up the cold pasta from last night.  
There’s a loud banging on the door, and it takes a while for Billy to register the sound.  
“Come in then,” he yells in a hoarse voice as he busies himself with the fridge.  
The door bursts open, and in tumbles Orlando. Billy gives a wave of his hand, and starts stirring the ravioli.  
“Christ, Billy, you look terrible.”  
“Ah just got up, cut me some slack,” he replies, shoving the glass bowl into the microwave.  
“Just got up? It’s 5 pm… and you can’t put that in there,” Orlando says, walking forward and rescuing the soggy dish of food. “Look, are you alright? Are you still set to come to Switch tonight?”  
Billy rubs his hands over his eyes and sighs. “Yeah, mate. Ah’m fine.”  
Orlando smiles, and rubs the nape of Billy’s neck. “I’ll grab your jeans and your shirt. You go brush your teeth. You smell like the Marlboro factory died your throat.”  
Billy slumps off to the bathroom without a word. He can’t be fucked brushing his teeth, actually, so he squirts a heap of 2-year-old Listerine in his mouth and hopes that’ll do the trick. He stares at his reflection for a long time. His pixie green eyes are sunken into his face, and the lines around his mouth are fading. Smile lines, Dom calls them. His smiles are getting less frequent, and his frowns now rule the face. He smooths out the skin around his forehead, but the deep lines don’t fade. He frowns at them.  
Orlando walks in behind him, brandishing a purple silk shirt and black moleskins.  
“These,” he declares with a smirk, “need to be ironed once in a while.”  
“That was Dom’s job,” Billy says before he can stop himself. There’s an uncomfortable silence before Orlando says anything else.  
“I’ll just iron them now, mate. You get ready.”  
“Orli…”  
But Orlando is gone, and Billy is left to face the lines alone.

_______________________________________________________________

Section Six  
_______________________________________________________________

Dominic has already been at Switch for 2 hours when Elijah shows up. He cruises in casually, as only Elijah could, wearing a brown cord suit jacket, his musty old jeans and a 7-Eleven t-shirt. He’s never looked more like a 12 year old in his life, but he’s also never looked so amazing either. Dom smiles and gives a goofy thumbs up sign. Elijah returns the signal and hurries over to the booth, slamming Dominic into a bear hug.  
“Hey dick.”  
“Hey yourself. Beers, yeah?”  
Elijah nods, and signals to the bartender. The bartender smiles and nods, and sets about filling a pitcher. Dom still finds Elijah’s stardom amazing. People can read him like a book. Dom wishes he could too.  
“So, what’s been up? You ran away from Pete’s place early last night, bastard. I was looking forward to another rap tournament,” Elijah grins. Dominic laughs nervously at the mention of last night.  
“Bills wanted to go to his place and chill.”  
“Ah, that’s cool then. Where are the others?”  
“On their way.”  
There is silence between them for quite some time. The beer is delivered, and Dom downs his in one big hit. Elijah laughs, and sips his slowly as he surveys the room. His eyes widen as Andy bursts through the crowd grinning charismatically. Following him comes Sean Astin.  
“Hobbitses!” Andy cries fondly as he scruffs up Elijah’s hair and slaps Dom on the back. Elijah begins a round of 200,000 Questions on Andy’s day so far, and Dom sits and stares at his empty glass. Astin makes small attempts at small talk, but Dom isn’t interested. He stares into the sea of dancers, and watches a gay couple dancing rhythmically with such…abandonment. He’s enthralled, and before he even realises he’s staring, a laugh goes around the table.  
“Down boy,” laughs Astin. Dom reddens a little. It takes a lot to make him blush, but this one hits the mark.  
“Let’s DJ,” he suddenly blurts. Anything to change the subject.  
Elijah laughs. “I just want to chill tonight man. No ‘Elwood’, no fame bullshit. Let’s just chill, yeah?”  
Dom nods, and stands.  
“Dance then?”  
He presents this question to the whole table, but looks directly at Elijah when he says it.  
“Just relax,” Andy says. “Have another drink, Dom.”  
Elijah laughs again, this time a little nervously.  
“C’mon,” Dom smirks. “You can rap like a bad ass. Now I wanna see some break dancing, homeboy.”  
The table erupts in laughter, and Elijah stands, pulling off his jacket. His ratty 7-Eleven t-shirt slides sensuously around his form like a second skin.  
“Okay. You’re on.”  
Dominic grabs Elijah by the wrist, and drags him out of view of the table to the middle of the crowd. It’s hot, it’s sweaty, and Dom suddenly wants to sit back down in the booth. Elijah grabs his hand and weasels deeper into the crowd, until they’re positioned right in front of the pulsating speakers. Elijah clears a small circle, and squats down. Dominic is already smiling like a maniac. The boy is fearless. Elijah grins, and spins in a full circle on the heel of his worn out Converse sneakers. Dominic bursts out with laughter, and pulls Elijah back up to his level.  
“I forfeit,” he says, still laughing. “I can’t beat that.”  
Elijah laughs, and the sound radiates through Dom’s ears. The strobe lights flash faster now, and Dom can’t hear anything, he can’t see anything, but he can tell that Elijah is there. It’s his electricity. The record flips and the room is filled with the sound of pulsating trance.  
“You said this was an old school jams club!” Elijah shouts into his ear.  
“I lied,” Dom shouts back, and starts moving slowly to the rhythm. Elijah smiles and complies, and for a while the two of them are lost, each in their own world.

_______________________________________________________________

Section Seven  
_______________________________________________________________

Billy and Orlando eventually manage to elbow their way through the Switch crowd, and are greeted by a small party of…well…nobody.  
Andy and Sean Astin sit sipping beers and laughing quietly, while Viggo and Karl Urban seem to be drawing on napkins.  
“Isn’t this pumping?” Orlando says excitedly, sitting down next to Viggo.  
“Absolutely,” says Andy, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  
“Where’s everyone else?”  
“This is everyone else,” Karl says, laughing a little.  
“Elijah and Dom are break dancing,” Astin says after some time.  
“Oh.”  
Billy turns to face the dancers, and he thinks he can make out Elijah’s mohawk. But the body it belongs to isn’t break dancing, it’s moving slowly, pulsating - and Billy almost thinks, grinding.

Dominic’s hands are in Elijah’s back pockets, and nothing has been said. Maybe it’s good, maybe it’s bad, but hell - it feels fucking right, Dom thinks.  
He moves closer, his body shadowing Elijah’s.  
“Dude,” Elijah says unsurely, after a while. Dominic laughs. He laughs because it’s such a bizarre thing to say at a time like this, and he laughs because it’s so… Elijah.  
“I dunno about this,” he says, but he doesn’t pull back. If anything, Dom thinks he can feel Elijah moving in closer, becoming an extension of Dom’s torso.  
“I can…I can stop, Lij,” Dom mutters after a while. He isn’t sure if Elijah can hear him over the bass, and is sort of glad. He isn’t sure he wants to stop.  
“No,” Elijah says, clearly. “It’s…I don’t know.”  
“I don’t either,” Dom says, and then nothing else is said for a long time.

_______________________________________________________________

Section Eight  
_______________________________________________________________

It’s 11 am when Dom bangs on Billy’s door. There’s no answer, and Dom thinks maybe he’s too early. He’s about to back away when the door flies open, and Billy is there, scruffy, semi-bearded and covered in white paint.  
“Oh, hi,” Dom manages to say. He doesn’t know what else to say, so he gives Billy the plastic JC Penney bag in his hand.  
“What’s this?”  
“Your Pumpkins t-shirt. I washed it.”  
“Oh.”  
There’s a silence.  
“What are you up to?” Dom asks, genuinely interested.  
“Just…painting the walls.”  
Dom frowns, and doesn’t say anything.  
“Ah got tired of the red.”  
“But I liked it.”  
“It’s not yer house, Dominic.”  
Dom doesn’t say anything for a while.  
“We’re going to Switch on Tuesday, if you want to get a beer,” he says after some time.  
“Ah’ll be busy.”  
“Well… I’ll see you around then,” Dom says, turning to leave.  
“Hey Dom…”  
“Yeah?”  
Billy hands him the bag back.  
“Keep this.”  
Dom nods, and walks down the stairs.  
“Was it worth it?” Billy calls after him. Dom doesn’t turn around. “All for the sake of a fucking boy?”  
Dom says nothing. There is nothing to say. He runs back up the stairs and before Billy realises, the familiar taste of smoke is there in his mouth again, and German lips are grazing his own with deep forceful kisses. Billy pulls back.  
“That -” Dom says.  
“Is what ah should remember every time ah doubt yer intentions.”

END


End file.
